Office:Desk
by ChelsaOfBakerStreet
Summary: PWP. Seriously NSFW. Mycroft needs a new place to hide his brother, but when he invites Lestrade over for a drink to figure out what they can do their intentions get a bit skewed.


**A/n: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters therein. WARNINGS: This is straight up PWP and is rated M for NOT AT ALL SAFE FOR PUBLIC VIEWING.**

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><p>"Lestrade, I know there's a safe house on the other side of London he can stay in, I think this one's been compromised" Mycroft sighed through the phone.<p>

"Mycroft, who could compromise Sherlock? Moriarty, Rich Brooks, whoever, is dead. Isn't Sherlock safe?"

Mycroft breathed heavily and took a sip of brandy before replying. "Look, all I know is that Sherlock says he needs to be moved and I'm going to trust him on this."

"I don't even know how he's alive, what the hell is actually going on Mycroft?"

"Like I could tell you." Mycroft heard Lestrade give a sigh on the other end of the phone, probably thinking about how much he hated the Holmes brothers. "Why don't you come to my home tonight and I'll fill you in on everything I can, and then we can discuss the movement of by brother _off the record_."

Greg rubbed his forehead, waving off Sally who was standing in his doorway. "Fine Mycroft, but I expect answers.

"Very well Lestrade, I will see you tonight at seven. Don't be late."

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><p>Lestrade hunched over his desk and pressed his head into his hands. How did he ever get mixed up with the Holmes brothers?<p>

Mycroft smiled as the doorbell jangled at ten minutes to seven, Greg Lestrade was never late. He straightened his tie one last time and pulled open the door. "Hello Greg, come in please." He swept the other man into the room, closing the door behind him.

Greg took in the sights of the older Holmes brother's house. It was quite large, like he expected it to be and was nicely furnished.

"If you behave you might even get to see the master bedroom." Mycroft's voice was so quiet that Greg was pretty sure he imagined it, but his heartbeat speed up as he swallowed dryly. He followed Mycroft into the large sitting room and sat in a chair, taking the glass of sherry Mycroft offered.

"So Mycroft, what's going on with Sherlock?" He took a sip of the liquor, the liquid burning down his throat.

Mycroft studied Greg over the top of his glass, taking in everything he could about the man. "Why do you care so much about my brother? He's _dead _Greg; let the poor man rest in peace."

"Mycroft, you've already told me he's alive, therefore I need to bring him in on a murder charge."

"You need to do no such thing. My brother will hide out until all of this nonsense dies down and then you can try and prosecute him, but by then the truth about Moriarty will have factual evidence behind it."

"Then what was the point of me coming over here?" Greg asked, looking at Mycroft strangely.

Mycroft sat his glass on the table, his eyes sparkling dangerously as he stood from his chair and crossed the floor to Greg, leaning down towards him. "I think you know why you're here Greg. You can't say you haven't been expecting this." Mycroft smirked as he continued, eyes traveling Lestrade's body. "And from the looks of it, you want it too." Mycroft placed a hand on Greg's thigh, leaning in to capture his mouth in a hot kiss. Greg reacted instantly, grabbing Mycroft around the neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Mycroft lowered himself onto Greg's lap, legs on both sides of Greg's as his hand traveled upwards, pressing into the hardness of his groin. Greg arched up into the touch, pushing Mycroft up and backwards, kept pushing until Mycroft's legs hit his desk and Mycroft sprawled over it.

Mycroft grabbed for Greg's tie, pulling him back as he brushed a stack of papers to the ground, feet finding purchase in the carpet as he was pushed into the desk again. Greg pressed himself against Mycroft, straddling Mycroft on the desk. Mycroft moaned into Greg's mouth, causing Greg to rock harder against Mycroft, panting heavily and sucking on Mycroft's tongue.

It crossed Greg's mind that this was Mycroft Holmes, the man who practically was the British government and this was probably wrong on ten different levels but he really didn't give a shit because this was _Mycroft _and hell if hadn't wanted this for a while. The way Mycroft always pressed against him when they ran into each other, the way his had always lingered a beat too long on Greg's shoulder in his office, and the obscene things Mycroft did with his tongue and a spoon, Greg _needed _this.

He grabbed into Mycroft's hair, kissing him hotly as his hand made its way down Mycroft's chest and to his belt that was unbuckled and pulled off. Greg pulled back slightly, giving Mycroft time to say no but he was met by heavy lidded eyes and swollen lips and he knew there was no turning back. He unbuttoned and unzipped Mycroft's trousers as Mycroft's hands worked on his own, on hand pulling Greg closer to him. Greg slid a hand inside Mycroft's trousers, feeling the hardness there just below the layer of fabric.

Suddenly, Mycroft was standing, press Greg backwards for a moment, his hands pushing down Greg's trousers, hand lightly stroking Greg. Greg shuddered lightly as Mycroft deftly pushed down Greg's boxers and let his hand capture Greg's cock, thumbing over the head and slowly drawing his hand down it. Greg arched into Mycroft's hand, a soft whimper escaping his lips. Greg removed Mycroft's briefs once he was able to move, and began to stroke Mycroft, his pace matching the hand on his own cock.

Mycroft pressed into Greg once more, their erections rubbing against one another as little shocks of pleasure ran through them. Greg forced Mycroft against the desk once again before pushing him down and leaning over him to press kisses to Mycroft's neck.

Mycroft grinned wickedly, pulling open a drawer and producing a bottle of lube which he passed to Greg with a whispered 'fuck me'. Greg didn't have to be told twice as he pressed some of the liquid onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it before sliding a finger into Mycroft. Mycroft sucked in a breath as Greg brushed his finger against Mycroft's prostate making him moan in pleasure. "Fuck Greg, I need another." Greg pushed another finger in, watching in fascination at the looks on Mycroft's face as he pressed his fingers in and out of the taller man.

Mycroft was reduced to begging for the first time in his life. He was _begging _Greg to be in him, to fuck him into the desk but Greg was being so damn caring and making sure that Mycroft was fully stretched. Finally Greg lubed up his cock and slowly slid into Mycroft. Mycroft hissed as pain and pleasure burned through him, unable to discern what feeling was what.

Greg remained as still as possible until Mycroft hissed at him to move and he slowly began to thrust into him, moving faster with each time he pressed into Mycroft. Mycroft pulled Greg down into another heated kiss as Greg slid in and out of him, moaning into his mouth. Mycroft bit down on Greg's lip as he hit Mycroft's prostate and a litany of _fuckyestheremoreharder _streamed out of Mycroft's mouth.

Mycroft's hands were digging into the wood of his desk, leaving small scratches, but Mycroft didn't care that the desk was an antique at the moment; all he cared about was that Greg was inside him, fucking him on the lovely cherry wood desk.

Mycroft gasped when Greg slid a hand around his cock, pumping him at the same pace he was thrusting into Mycroft. Mycroft felt his orgasm rising and felt himself begin to buck into Greg, pulling him down with a free hand.

Greg pushed into Mycroft faster as he felt his orgasm starting, pushing him to the brink. Greg pounded into Mycroft, the swear words and repetition of his name spilling from Mycroft's mouth turning him on even more as he pressed into Mycroft. He felt his orgasm swell and came hard, spilling into Mycroft as he slumped over Mycroft who was releasing just moments after Greg. Mycroft pulled Greg down into one final passionate kiss before releasing him and lying back on the desk. Mycroft tossed a box of tissues at Greg who was slowly pulling out, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Mycroft that was…"

"Hot?" Mycroft supplied, grinning at the detective. "I thought you might enjoy that."

Greg cleaned himself off and pulled his boxers and trousers back on, slumping into the chair across from Mycroft who was smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. "Mycroft, would you like to go to dinner?" Greg asked, the words spilling out of his mouth.

"Thought you'd never ask," Mycroft smirked. "Though I must admit I'll be looking forward to the after-dinner sex the entire evening."

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><p><em>Yes good, I see you made it through. So the question is, would you please review with your opinions? :D<em>


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